Page 10 of My Mafia Beast

One of his hands went to my ass cheek. The way he squeezed made me feel like no fabric was covering the thing. He has such aggression, and with every movement of his fingers, I could feel it pent up and being released. He slipped the same hand beneath the elastic of my yoga pants. And then another hand did the same on the other side. My breath grew quick because I knew what was happening. My pants were about to come off.

When they did, I could feel both my ass cheeks jiggle. That's the fabric left them. He also had my thong inside the pants as well. It meant that he had a full view of my vagina. When he looked down to get a peek, he looked hungry. He bit his lower lip. And I had never been happier to be someone's feast.

With those sauce-like fingers that could fit in the hot dog roll, that masculine hand of his went right to my wet slit. I was surprised his hand didn't slip right off. I was so wet. Somehow he kept a nice grip on me, flicking my clit like a video game. Whatever he was doing down there, I could barely move; it felt so good. When I thought he was going to go fast, he went slow. And when I thought he would go slow, he turned up the aggression on me. It was that level of unpredictableness that drove me insane. I loved being kept on my toes.

But I could run with the best of them. I moved my hand down to his belt and unbuckled it. I momentarily pulled myself away from his touch to get a better perspective. It was a matter of seconds before I was looking down at his boxers with a smile. Oh, what a beautiful sight it was. That little thin fabric was the only thing separating me from his cock. I waited a moment before pulling the elastic down. But then I couldn't wait anymore.

Out sprung his massive, throbbing cock, veins and all. I honestly couldn't believe how horny I had become. Just looking at it. It took me to a whole nother level. I even fit my lip without telling it to do that.

"You like what you see, baby girl." He said.

I wasn't one that usually enjoyed dirty talk during naughty times, but when he said it to me, I lost myself all over again. He took me to yet another place together. A place I hadn't even visited within myself. We weren't just embarking on a sexual adventure. He would take me on a journey of self-discovery toward what I enjoyed.

I finally grabbed that massive rod of his. The skin was warm and taught. There was no give to it. It was a testament to just how hard he was. Maybe it was even a testament to me that I could get him that hard. But it wasn't time for me to toot my own horn, not in the slightest. It was time to bend down and put my lips on what was throbbing in my hands.

I could feel every bit of him when I put it on my lips. The head tickled the back of my throat. That warm skin felt right on my tongue. I never considered myself good at giving head. But for whatever reason, I needed to be good while sucking him off. I sucked hard. I tried my best to be rhythmic. I used my tongue more than I ever had while doing this.

When his hand started running through my hair, I took that as a sign as I was doing something right. It was really the moans that got me the most. Hearing him moan in pleasure, these deep guttural things he was trying to hide, gave me a sense of accomplishment. This riled him up because he stopped me while he was as hard as ever. Dare I say, he might have even gotten close to climaxing in my mouth.

I wound up naked on my back, his face buried in my vagina. He wasted no time and tasted every bit of me. There was a lot to taste because I was soaked. His tongue moved so fast. It felt like it had a motor. His hands grabbed my thighs to open my legs wider. I felt so exposed but in the best of ways. He was pleasuring me, and I would be somehow satisfied and wanting more simultaneously. I closed my eyes and just disappeared at that moment. That was all I needed to do. I didn't feel obligated to play a role. Instead, he just wanted to enjoy me. This, in turn, made me feel special. This made me feel more valuable. It might have been silly for others to understand, but sometimes a man just dining on you made you feel like a solid block of gold.

His tongue made this circular motion that brought me super close to climaxing. I focused on it being clockwise because I didn't want to come too quick. Man, he was bringing me there, though. I didn't have a say in the manner. Well, I did, which is why I pushed his head off my vagina.

He had a smirk on his face the second I did that, and rightfully so. He knew how to please me and could be proud of that.

His shoulders were at the same level as mine. I felt his cock breeze over my clit. Not a few seconds later. Did it begin to enter the hole? It had the squeeze pass as if my lips were a crowd. I could feel all the ridges of his cock enter me. Once it was in, it felt like I had a baseball bat up there. My lips were stretched each time he went in and out of me. It amazed me how you couldn't get rope burned down there. If there was ever a time that would happen, it was that one.

It was maybe ten pumps that my toes started the curl, nails dug into his back, and my mouth opened wide. I was coming. I could hear him giggle a little bit. That was expected. He did something amazing. He got me to come within seconds. That wasn't easy to do when it came to me. There were maybe 15 to 20 more pumps before he had to pull out and finish all over my stomach. I was absolutely still out of breath.

We lay there next to one another after the deed was done. He wrapped his arm around me. I put my hand on it. This was a moment when I didn't need to move forward. I could have lived in that moment forever, but all good things have to come to an end.

"So I'm going to help you move in and everything," Tomaso said while we were on the couch together. This was after we had gotten dressed and freshened ourselves up.

Jitters filled me. "This is pretty surreal. I'm really moving in, aren't I?"

"That's completely up to you. If you want me to get murdered, that's on your conscience." But I could tell there was a bit of seriousness in there too. He was telling the truth, after all. The thought of him getting killed legitimately saddened me.

"I don't think I want a picture that Tomaso."

He chuckled, got off the couch, and disappeared into the kitchen while I lost myself in the other moment. The mansion around me just seemed so big. The chandelier and the far distance did not seem real. How did my life become when it had become? One minute you're scrapping by looking to get yourself a career. You are before a chandelier the next moment, and your life has changed.

Moving day was a bit different from everything else that had happened. Tomaso had become a little bit colder. Now, I understood why. He wanted the move to go ultra smooth. He also wanted to go under the radar. So that meant that things had to be a bit formulaic and robotic. We needed to get my stuff in with it being a secret. So he wasn't tremendously open to me. A lot of it involved him just grabbing boxes from the moving truck and giving me little eye contact. His shoulders were far more intense than when we had been together having sex. Of course, that was no surprise. He was a different man when it came to that. I'd like to think that I got to see the real him. But who knew who the real him was? That was my task in trying to find out.

There were also points during the day when I questioned whether I was doing the right thing. When I saw pictures from my childhood in a box being moved into his mansion, I couldn't help but wonder whether or not I was making the right decision. It was easy to get lost in the romantic fog that was Tomaso. He put a haze over me without even realizing it. He brought me places he didn't even know he was taking me. He was a man in the mafia, though. That sentiment was not lost on me. At times it was. But for the most part, I did keep reminding myself of who he was and what life I was getting myself into. This wasn't just an ordinary contract. I signed my name away to be part of a life that could get me killed. It was like I told myself that I needed to think of this stuff. But at the same time, I was too afraid to do so. Liking Tomaso did not make that any easier. It just made all the decision-making more complicated.

Box by box, we put things into the mansion, and by sundown, we were done on that faithful moving day. They were still a few little knick-knacks at home that I needed to bring. But those could wait. The important stuff like my toothbrush, most of my clothes, and the sentimental things like my pictures and a few other trinkets from my family came with me. Those things put a pit in my stomach because I worried that something would happen to them, but at the same time, if I was going to live there, I needed them to be with me. But again, those were things that I just needed to push to the back of my head. For the time being, at least.

At the end of the moving day, we had dinner with one another. He actually made me meatloaf. As kind as that has been, and as much as I loved watching his muscular back flex while he prepared the meal, he was still quiet compared to who I had been dealing with. It may have been a long day, and I might have overlooked things too much. Maybe my mind lends more toward being over-analytical.

In any case, I did watch it back flex with every movement he made over that stove. That was when he was preparing the meal. At least. I stayed in the kitchen once, but the meatloaf was in the oven, and he had left the room. He didn't say much before he walked out. But it did seem like he wanted to say something.

Eventually, he came back into the room fifty minutes later. That was how long it took for the meatloaf to cook. The beautiful smell of beef in the oven filled my nose and made my stomach growl. I would have been starving if I hadn't been so distracted by Tomaso. But wondering about him kept my appetite at bay.

I finally got my answer when he sat down. "You may have expected this, but you may not have expected it. So soon. You're going to have to meet my father."

So that's what was bothering him. Although it was big news and shook my nerves, it wasn't as big a deal as he may have thought, at least not to me. But maybe it was more nerve-racking than I had realized because my legs had been shaking under the table. It all hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Are you okay?" He asked me. His eyes were filled with concern. It almost scared me how nervous he looked while looking at me. I had never felt a panic attack before, but I had a feeling that whatever I was going through at that table, that was it.